


the man in the iron maiden shirt

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Charles in a Wheelchair, First Meetings, Flirting, Gyms, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Charles discovers a new mind at the gym.





	the man in the iron maiden shirt

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Tumblr ficlet I posted some time ago inspired by [this photo](http://clickthefrog.tumblr.com/post/142423636384/mcavoys-michael-fassbender-of-shame-poses), and originally posted [here](http://clickthefrog.tumblr.com/post/142435911859/the-man-in-the-iron-maiden-shirt).

Charles’ sister scolded him for “falling in love with everyone he met,” as she termed it, but Charles felt it was difficult, as a telepath, not to find something interesting at least in most minds he encountered. It had to be said, however, that the gym was not always a reliable place to find interesting minds. He worked out here several times a week, in his wheelchair, and he would know.

This evening, however, there was a new mind present. The mind’s owner was privately playing very loud metal music in his earbuds; that was the first thing Charles was aware of, with the rapidly pounding drums, shredding guitar, and the singer shouting his anger and pain.

It was, in its way, catchy, at least as much as a churning sea of sound could be.

As he did his dumbbell curls, Charles discreetly sought the identity of the music’s listener in the rather sparse Friday evening crowd, and found it was a lean, tall man on the lat pulldown, about a dozen feet away. At a pause in his set, the man turned and picked up his water bottle. He was strikingly handsome; brooding and mysterious, one might say, with a strong, stubbled jaw.

His next set started, and Charles watched. His form was perfect and measured, despite the breakneck pace of the music he was listening to; he took the reps smoothly, never blasting through to make the weights clang and to make things easier on himself (or to try to impress onlookers), never straining because he’d taken on too much weight. There was another factor as well, something in his method that felt different from everyone else, and Charles searched and found that the man was a mutant. His power had to do with metal, magnetism, things along those lines.

Fascinating.

He stood, drank some more water, and cracked his neck, and Charles saw he was wearing a gray shirt with IRON MAIDEN printed on the front. And he was listening to Metallica. Perfect.

Charles allowed himself a discreet peek—this was a man with high defensive walls, a seemingly natural and unwitting ability to largely keep even telepaths like himself out. While Charles was able to enter someone’s mind and leave them with no recollection or awareness of his having done so, and could probably do that here with some effort, it wasn’t something he did casually, and he had no reason to do it now.

And he shouldn’t trespass any further. But he wasn’t above gently nudging the man to look toward the freeweights section of the gym. Perhaps the metal of Charles’ wheelchair might draw his attention.

Ah, there we go.

Charles pulled his mind from the man’s without drawing notice, and let himself show off a bit for him, without appearing to do so. He was, if he said so himself, rather good at lifting after years of it, and it showed. The man was watching him in the mirror, also trying not to appear to be doing so, although he didn’t seem like one who was particularly self-conscious or worried about being caught. He was, in fact, so confident and self-possessed (Charles could tell that much without digging) that it was startling. He just didn’t want to gawk, it seemed; he was reserved. But there was definitely a spark of interest there, regarding Charles.

Charles went through his usual freeweights routine; the man, who Charles decided to call Iron Maiden for the time being, moved to the chest press, and then to a bench near Charles for barbell lifting. He took out his earbuds.

As he laid on his back, he glanced at Charles, just long enough for Charles to be aware that it was meant to appear deliberate, and nodded. He was ever so slightly flushed, and slick with sweat, and the sight of him stretched out on his back was definitely worth Charles’ attention.

“D’you need a spot?” Charles asked, in tone a casual offer, with the hope his eyes were sending a different message.

Iron Maiden raised his brow. “I suppose,” he said, his voice low and somber.

 _I know you don’t really need spotting_ , Charles said into his mind, his own power at the ready to still him if he was startled at the sudden strange conversation. But Iron Maiden’s lips parted in surprise and he blinked at Charles, who winked, grinning. _We each have our tricks. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I think it’s rather ingenious, challenging your body while honing your ability to control your mutation._

“I thought I was alone,” Iron Maiden said quietly, feelingly. Charles knew almost nothing about him, yet those few words said so much.

“You’re not alone,” Charles told him simply.

Iron Maiden nodded, and blinked sweat from his long lashes. His eyes were sea green. Oh, damn it all, Charles’ sister was right, except this time, this one was special.

Charles was a professor and found it difficult if not impossible to keep himself from teaching, and so as Iron Maiden did his sets Charles commented on his form and reminded him to breathe properly with the movement of the lift. Bless him, Iron Maiden put up with it.

“What’s your name?” Iron Maiden asked after his sets, still supine.

“Charles. And yours?”

“Erik.” Iron Maiden—er, Erik—sat up and proffered his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Erik.” Charles made sure to keep the handclasp going just a bit too long. “I haven’t seen you here before. Hopefully you’ll make it a habit. I’d like to talk with you—I’ve a feeling there’s a great deal we could discuss.” Charles was not above biting his lip and then slowly smiling while looking directly into Erik’s eyes—if a tactic was field-tested and found to be essentially irresistible, one was prudent to deploy it.

Charles cheered inside as Erik took out his phone. “I often find myself a better conversationalist outside the gym,” Erik said rather dryly, and took Charles’ number.

“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” Charles asked, grinning, enjoying the sense of flustered exasperation Erik’s mind emanated at his cheek. He couldn’t resist adding, “By the way, when I take you to dinner, I’d like it if you wore that t-shirt.”

“What if the dress code requires a suit?” Erik asked, not missing a beat.

“Wear it underneath,” Charles told him, “and I’ll check for it later.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Man in the Iron Maiden Shirt (The Man in the Iron Maiden Shirt Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15162815) by [IreneADonovan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan)




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